


In The Morning

by SimplyEssa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A Bit O’ Blood ‘n’ Violence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beware, Child Abuse, Depressed Keith (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, M/M, Pain, Protective Lance (Voltron), Smallish Injuries, keith is scared and lance is there’s for him, not a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyEssa/pseuds/SimplyEssa
Summary: ”...you’re not gonna like it,” he says, still shaking as he sits on one of the barstools. He slumps a little, bit winces and straightens back up. “I, uh... I weigh, maybe, 95 pounds?””95-““...yeah.”He shakes his head, fury burning through him as he shakes out one pill. He takes Keith’s hand and drops it into his palm, eyes narrowed.”...s-sorry-“”Stop apologizing.”





	1. Chapter 1

“Are- are y-you sure, Mrs. McClain?” Keith asks, looking up at her from beneath his bangs.

Lance worriedly chews his lip, hand still in the dip of his back, trying to comfort him. His mom always lets Keith in, and will always let him stay however long he wants. She knows his home life is bad, but she doesn’t know to what extent, like he does, which is why when she raises her dishrag to whap him on his shoulder for calling her that-

Lance pulls him away from the rag, letting it hit his own forearm, instead. He feels Keith flinch in his arm, beginning to shake.

“S-s-sorry-“

”Darling,” Mama begins, voice calm and steady, though her face shows how she really feels. “You’re always welcome here. You don’t need to apologize for getting a little scared, okay?”

Keith nods rapidly, pressing a bit closer to himself.

Lance wraps his entire arm around Keith’s waist, keeping it loose so Keith won’t feel trapped, and rubs small circles into his hip.

Keith relaxes, “okay.”

”Now, get going,” Rosa (he would say Mama, but Rosa sounds more formal) starts again, walking back towards the kitchen. “I’ll order you two some pizza, alright? Luis can make his own dinner while I’m out.”

”Thanks, Mama,” Lance smiles at her, leading Keith towards the stairs.

”C-can we...” Keith trails off, swallow audible as he stops near the stairs. 

“What is it?” Lance asks, looking down at him in worry. Did he trigger him, somehow? Was his grip too tight? Did-

“I’m- my back... it... do you have p-pain meds?”

”...We do,” Lance says, relief coursing through him, but only by a little bit. What was wrong with his back? “How much do you weigh?” He asks out of concern and because he needs to know how many of them Keith can take.

”...I’d rather not say,” Keith mumbles, head ducked as they walk into the kitchen, where his Mama keeps their pills. She doesn’t look up from the dishes, continuing to wash them.

”I gotta know how many I can give you, sugar,” he sighs a little bit, pulling out the pill bottle. He goes to grab a water bottle, too, but a weak, skinny hand on his wrist stops him. He looks up to see Keith shaking his head. He doesn’t need the water to down them.

”...you’re not gonna like it,” he says, still shaking as he sits on one of the barstools. He slumps a little, bit winces and straightens back up. “I, uh... I weigh, maybe, 95 pounds?”

”95-“ 

“...yeah.”

He shakes his head, fury burning through him as he shakes out one pill. He takes Keith’s hand and drops it into his palm, eyes narrowed.

”...s-sorry-“

”Stop apologizing,” Lance demands, voice more cold than he intended. Keith flinches, seemingly bracing himself for a hit, and- god fucking damn it, Lance is going to commit murder on those fucking foster parents- drops the pill into his mouth. Lance softens his voice. “It’s not your fault. None of it is.”

He nods, but it doesn’t look like he believes it. 

“Do you need anything else?” Lance asks, taking his hand. He needs to be sure before they go back upstairs; he doesn’t want to potentially risk triggering him when they come back down, nor does he want to come down when Keith ends up crying. Keith shakes his head. “Are you sure?”

”Y-yeah,” Keith says, leaving his hand loose in Lance’s.

Lance frowns. “If you’re sure,” he sighs, then helps Keith up.

He leads them up the stairs, at a painstakingly slow pace- they have to stop every other step so Keith doesn’t hurt himself too much. Keith denies his offer to be carried.

Once they’re up the stairs, at the second level, he leads Keith to his room. 

He lets Keith in first then moves to close the door behind him when Keith speaks up.

”L-leave it open,” he says, quietly, though louder than he had been before. Lance counts it as a step forwards. “Please.”

Lance nods, tugging at his lip with his teeth and leaving it open halfway. 

“Do you-“

”I need something,” Keith whispers, trembling arms and equally shaky fingers reaching down to pull off his shirt. Lance frowns, again, as Keith winces trying to take it off.

”Let me,” Lance says softly, grabbing the hem of his shirt-

“No!” Keith shouts, then shrinks back, looking as if he’s expecting a slap. “So- no...”

”Okay,” Lance backs up; raises his hands in the air to calm him, somewhat. “No touching.”

”I... thank you,” Keith says, forcing the shirt over his head. Lance’s temper flares at the sight. His collarbone has a dark bruise over it, turning black. There’s a small cut on his breast, looking accidental, though there’s a huge bruise around it. “I... I need a shirt, or- or something,” he says, turning around to gently drop the shirt into his laundry basket, and-

He was whipped.

His back has crisscrossing lines of bruises on it, a few angry welts that have stopped bleeding. 

Lance wants to kill his foster parents painfully slow.

”Keith-“

”Please, don’t,” he whimpers, and Lance’s heart shatters. “I... I can’t...”

”In the morning?” Lance suggests, moving to his closet. He grabs the biggest, comfiest sweater he can find, holding it out to Keith at arms length.

”Y-yeah,” Keith takes the sweater from him, slowly slipping it over his head with a grimace. “I... I need something else.”

”What is it, sugar?” Lance asks, stepping forwards.

A tear falls from Keith’s eye, though the rest stubbornly stay where they are. “...a...a hug?”

”You don’t need to ask for that, sugar,” he laughs a little, scooping Keith into a soft, loose hug, in case he wants to leave. He won’t hurt Keith; doesn’t want to, like that asshole of a foster dad Keith has.

”I love you,” Keith whispers against his collarbone, arms wound around his middle and holding tight, like Lance might disappear. 

He won’t, not ever, not from Keith. 

“I love you, too,” Lance says against his head, presses a kiss to his forehead. 

They’ll deal with it in the morning. For now, though, Keith needs comfort and a safe spot to cry, and Lance is happy to do  and be those things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of people asked for a part two so shfndifbsu here u go
> 
>  
> 
> not beta read and written on a phonemplease excuse any typos

He wants to make it Future Lance’s problem, once more.

He doesn’t want to wake Keith up from his peaceful sleep, and by the looks of the dark suitcases under his eyes and how pale his skin is, the peaceful sleep he extremely needs, but he can’t keep putting this off.

Keith was _whipped_ , and that’s as far as Lance is willing to let this go.

They need to talk about this, get Keith out of that fucking house, even if it involves Keith moving away and them never seeing eachother again.

He just needs Keith _safe_ , even if it breaks his heart.

So he gently pries Keith’s death grip off of him, sits up, and slides a shirt on over his head. Lance frowns as Keith sniffles, having never stopped, and presses the back of his hand to his forehead.

He’s burning up.

He’s got a fever.

Lance’s frown grows deeper, and he shuffles out of the blanket, brushing Keith’s sweaty hair from his equally sweaty forehead when he stands up. He presses a featherlight kiss to his forehead before stretching and slowly tiptoeing out of the room. 

He leaves the door wide open as he leaves, in case Keith needs him. He knows Keith won’t, but he hopes beyond all hope that when Keith does need him, he’ll yell.

When he manages to make his way down the stairs without making any noise (something he’s grateful for; he can be a ninja when he needs to be), he can hear his Mama singing in the kitchen; can hear the sizzling of bacon on a pan. 

“Mama,” he calls as he enters the kitchen, a hand on the back of his neck. Mama turns around with a smile, acknowledging him, before turning back around, to the bacon on the pan.

”Yes, sweetie?” she asks, doing her magic-mom-ness that turns the raw meat into bacon. 

“I... can we... talk?” He asks, wincing at the way his voice cracks.

His mama turns around, face concerned, as she reaches around to turn off the stove. She wipes her hands on a cloth, moving towards their island. “Is everything okay?”

”Yeah-“ He sighs a little. That’s complete and utter bullshit, and by the look on his moms face, she thinks so, too, "No, uh, actually.”

His mamas frown grows wider, and her fists clench a little, “what is it?”

”It’s, uh, about... Keith,” he says, slowly, shoulders sinking a little bit. He doesn’t want to make his mom worry, or, least of all, mad, but... this is something she needs to know.

”If it’s about what I think it’s about,” she starts, face blank but eyes angry and voice mostly steady, "then, yes. I know about his home life.”

”...Oh,” it’s weak and thready when he says it, and he shrinks a little more. How long had she known? Was she planning on doing something or letting Keith suffer like Lance himself had?

”Yes,” she sighs, then, composure faltering, “I... I called Mr. and Mrs. Daizabaal last night; told them Keith would be staying with us for a few days. We can call the police, only if Keith wants to, once he wakes up and we talk, or if they come to our house."

Lance nods, barely a jerk of the head, and lets his shoulders slump. He just wants to hold Keith and sleep for a million years, "Right. Okay."

She gives him a look of sympathy; of  _pity_ , before she turns back around, starting to fry the bacon once more, "Go wake up Keith, sweetie. Bring him down here for some breakfast."

He nods, again, before all but running out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so jm gonna be honest. the first chapter of this was written while i was trying mucho hard not to cry, and i don’t even remember writing the second chapter. i was looking through old works and i was like. “woah. this looks interesting” because i didn’t remember it well, right? and. well. a chapter 2 draft had been started, but never finished— though i do remember being stumped at the end of this chapter. i tried thinking of ways to continue it and finish it today, but. i actually like this ending.
> 
> s. i hope you enjoyed and i’m sorry it took so long!


End file.
